Farewell to the Imperial Court
[Warning: mild gore.]
Plum blossoms flourished in the courtyard, falling everywhere on the ground, on the snow that was yet to melt, blending together at first glance. The petals were blown around the yard leisurely by the wind.
Dusk fell like a curtain, and on the eaves the moon was as cold as water.
At the far back of the small courtyard, half hidden by the plum blossom tree was a corner gate, looking like it had been there for a long time. Guarded by two well-built men steeled in armors and weapons, inside the door was a distinctly large space. The veranda was narrow and cramped, towering over a stone-paved path which led into a pitch-black prison. The atmosphere was somber and heavy with the stench of death.
The faint smell of the blossoms was seemingly cut off by the door, unable to reach this place at all.
More guards inside with various weapons stood stock still; the bars of the cells they were protecting as thick as a grown man's arm.
Following the dark, narrow path further inside the prison would be met with three large stone doors with mechanisms inside, each carefully guarded. Behind those doors was completely devoid of mortal life, as if the long path leading here had been the road to the underworld full of wronged souls, lit up by flickering lights that looked like will-o'-wisps.
In the cell at the end of the prison, there was a low male voice saying something, followed by a short silence and ostensibly a tired sigh.
Suddenly, a piercing scream cut through the pitch darkness in the prison, dimming the light for a split second. The scream was terribly ear-splitting, like that of a dying animal, giving any human soul the chills.
One of the two guards outside with their back towards the cell seemed to be fresh blood with his young, inexperienced expressions. He could not help but shiver after hearing the scream, but a glance at his companion showed the other playing deaf, standing as straight as a mountain; so he too recomposed and looked down.
But that scream just got shriller and went on longer, the person kept screaming until their voice gave out and their breath became short, and eventually the scream became moans and sobs, further evidence of their misery.
The newcomer felt continuous goosebumps on his body.
After about an hour1, the sound finally died down. A short time passed by until a middle-aged man was dragged out by two people, looking half dead. His arms were bare, head lolled to one side, hair sweat-soaked, lips bitten raw, blood foaming at the corner of his mouth, no visible injuries save for the seven major acupuncture points on his stomach and chest, which were stabbed into by deep crimson nails. It looked like a horrifying map.
The young guard couldn't help but follow the man with his eyes until he disappeared behind a stone door.
At that moment, someone behind him said, "Do you have regrets now, having seen that?"
He visibly shook with fear, turning back to see a man in turquoise robes silently appearing behind him for heavens knew how long. The other guard had already knelt, so he quickly followed suit, "My lord."
The man in robes seemed to be in his late twenties, carrying himself with a scholarly grace, but there were traces of sickness on his complexion. His face was sharp, eyes bright, thick eyelashes seemingly hiding half of his face when he looked down, which was a common habit. The rare times the man looked up, a chilling cold in his eyes could be seen. The addition of an elegance slope of nose and a contemptuous curl of lips was a treacherous touch to his handsome look.
YOU ARE READING
Faraway Wanderer
Historical FictionA tale about the former leader of a special organization served under royalty, now leaving his past life behind and unintentionally getting involved with the martial world. Associated Names Tian Ya Ke Tiānyá kè 天涯客 (This is not my story or my own tr...